Tears (16 page)

“Get in,” George hissed as the car screeched to a halt behind the van.

Tom swallowed. After only the briefest hesitation he jumped into the backseat of the BMW and slammed the door behind him. The car lurched back into traffic. Tom's eyes flashed to the driver in the rearview mirror; she was an Agency woman in her midthirties, but he couldn't place her name. He had only met her briefly on a few occasions. He remembered that she was an expert in languages.

“What's going on?” Tom demanded, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“We're taking you to JFK,” George answered.

“Why? What on earth—”

“Loki's been sprung,” George interrupted.

Tom stopped breathing. He found he couldn't speak. He wasn't shocked, of course; in a way, he'd expected as much. No, he was simply terrified—and not for himself.
Gaia.
She was home; at least, that's where he assumed she was, getting ready for their big dinner tonight. And
he
was stuck in this car. Away from her. Unable to protect her. And Loki—

“He escaped about forty-five minutes ago,” George continued. “There was a fire in the jail. He had a double on the inside. They just found the body—”

“Take me to my apartment,” Tom commanded.

George peered around the back of his seat. Fear was etched into every line of his worn face. “We
can't, Tom. We have to get you on a plane to London.”

Tom shook his head. His jaw tightened. “I'm not leaving without Gaia,” he stated. “So take me to my apartment.
Now
.”

“I'm sorry,” George whispered. He exchanged a quick glance with the driver. “I'm afraid we don't have a choice here.”

Hot rage coiled inside Tom's chest. “Either you take me to my apartment or I'm jumping out of this car,” he whispered between tightly clenched teeth.

The driver's eyes met Tom's in the rearview mirror.

“I have orders to terminate you, sir, if you do not comply,” she stated.

Tom blinked. She'd sounded very matter-of-fact— as any good agent would. And in that instant he had no doubt that she would carry out her orders. She and Tom had no personal history; she felt no loyalty to him. That was probably why the Agency had assigned her to this mission, because killing him would be no problem for her. This was business. Nothing more. Tom should have expected it: His relationship with his superiors had become strained at best. In spite of a lifetime of service. In spite of every sacrifice imaginable. But this was not the time for bitterness or resentment. He drew in a deep breath.

“What's going on?” he asked again.

“A situation has developed in Europe,” the driver
answered. “We've traced a series of payments from one of Loki's phony corporations to a team of German scientists, three of whom were found murdered this morning. They worked for NATO and the German defense ministry. That's all I can tell you.”

Tom shot a hard glare at George. “How long have you known this?”

George shook his head. “I found out ten minutes ago,” he mumbled.

For a moment Tom just stared at his old friend. Then he leaned back in his seat. His options swirled before him like dead leaves on a breezy autumn day— quickly crumbling in the wind. He could try to escape now and be killed. He could try to escape at the airport or on assignment, in which case he'd be hunted down and killed as well. If he didn't obey orders, he would wind up dead. No. . . his only choice was to stay alive, to complete this mission. Only then could he possibly see Gaia again.

Tom's chest tightened. His eyes began to smart. The Agency knew very well what they were doing. They were blackmailing him with his daughter's life. The mission was inextricably bound up with Gaia's safety—because if Loki was free to oversee whatever foul scheme he was planning in Europe, then he was free to snatch Gaia as well.

“At the very least. . . at the very least, let—let me say good-bye,” Tom stammered. His voice caught in
his throat. “Please, George. Do me this one favor. The Agency owes—”

“Two minutes,” the woman interrupted. She jerked the steering wheel hard to the right, and the car skidded onto Canal Street. “I'll give you two minutes with your daughter. Any more than that and I'll have to consider this an act of noncompliance. Understood?”

Tom nodded. But he couldn't answer. He was crying.

Never mind the fact that two psychos had tried to kidnap her. Never mind that she didn't have a clue as to who they were or what they wanted.

GAIA FELT LIKE SHE WAS STILL
unconscious. Yes, she'd been awake for several minutes now, and her attackers were long gone. . . but
this,
this was just too outrageous to be true. It had to be a dream. Not just Ed's walking. All of it—everything that had tumbled from Ed's mouth as he sat there beside her, still clutching the gun: the secret, the reason he'd kept it to himself, his bargain with Heather—

Dark Possibility

“Gaia? Did you hear what I just said?”

She shook her head, unable to stop staring at him. “Huh?”

“Who
were
those guys?” he demanded.

“I. . .” She shrugged. She had no idea. Besides, the question struck her as extremely unimportant, given the circumstances. “I just can't believe Heather asked you to do that, Ed. It's just...it's just beyond my comprehension—”

“Gaia!” Ed barked. “They had guns. They almost killed you. They could have killed me. What the hell is going on?”

She stared at him, but all she could do was shrug again. It pained her. She could see the genuine fear in his eyes. He deserved an answer to the question. So did she. Her mind kept coming back to Loki, of
course...but he was in jail. So were there sickos in the world who wanted a piece of Gaia Moore?
This was a dark possibility she'd really never considered.
But it seemed pretty clear: She had an enemy who wanted her kidnapped.

“Ed,” Gaia said softly, dropping all her attitude for a brief moment for Ed's sake. “I don't know who they were, and I don't know what they wanted, okay? Hopefully I will find those answers—either by myself or with my father's help. But right now the important thing is that I'm okay and you're okay. And. . . and you saved my life.”

Those last words were difficult.
She had to wrestle them from deep inside her.
And she knew the reason: She never found it easy to admit that she couldn't handle every situation with complete autonomy. But now, with all her new and completely screwed-up attachments, life was much more complicated.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Yeah, well, now we're even,” Ed muttered. Then he smiled and gingerly placed the gun on the ground beside them, pointing in the opposite direction. “Besides, that's some of the best walking I've done in years.”

Gaia could only shake her head—once again reliving that image of Ed on his feet.
Playing it in her mind, rewinding it, and playing it
again.
It was all unbelievable. The fact that Ed could walk. The fact that he'd saved her life. Or the fact that Heather Gannis was trying to take Ed's accident settlement. Especially the part about Heather. . .

Correction. Heather's being a selfish schemer? Not so unbelievable.
Ed can walk.
That was truly the wildest part of this equation. Gaia had thought she was hallucinating in the park, watching Ed pick himself up out of his wheelchair and shuffle forward. She'd thought for sure she'd damaged her skull in the fight somehow and was experiencing some kind of neurological breakdown. Her eyes wandered over to the wheelchair, sitting there in the darkness like a discarded toy.

“You're amazing,” she heard herself say.

Ed smiled again, and for a brief, shining moment everything in the world was okay. Never mind Sam. Never mind the fact that two psychos had tried to kidnap her.
Never mind that she didn't have a clue as to who they were or what they wanted.
She had her best friend back, Ed could walk, and right now she felt happy and so damn proud of Ed that she wanted to stand up and tell the whole city what he'd just pulled off.
Listen up, New York: My friend Ed is a walking miracle!

“Hey,” Ed warned. There was an edge in his tone. “You promised you wouldn't tell anyone my secret. And you also promised not to judge Heather.”

She sighed, not sure if she wanted to laugh or to
punch him. “Are you seriously telling me you're going to go through with this hush-hush garbage? Come on. You can't do this to yourself. If you're going to walk again—”

“And this is not your decision to make,” Ed interrupted. “I'm not asking for your approval, G. But I am asking you to keep your promises. You swore you'd keep my secret. You swore you wouldn't judge.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.
Mental note: Stop making promises you know you'll regret.
“You know I won't breathe squat to anyone. But as for not judging Heather. . .” She frowned. “No can do.”

“Just keep it to yourself,” he mumbled.

Right. Easier said than done. It would take every ounce of self-control that Gaia possessed not to have a little talk with Heather. But a promise was a promise. To break it would be to become like Sam Moon. And that was not a move she was prepared to make.

“You play hardball,” Gaia finally said with a grim smile. “I might have to kick you.”

Ed laughed. “I might have to kick you back.”

Acrid Taste

AS SOON AS THE FEDEX GUY WAS
out of sight, Sam hauled the massive box from the hall into the living room
of B4, then ran into his room to get a penknife. Delivery from the police station. He knew exactly what it was. His computer. Back at last. He crouched beside the box and ran the blade along the cardboard lid, feeling a swell of relief.

After a day of complete and utter shit, it felt good to have some minor redemptive moment.
The police had returned his computer, which meant he was now officially and completely in the clear as far as Mike's death was concerned.

With a groan Sam lugged the monitor over to his desk and started rewiring the machine. No doubt the assholes had completely wiped his hard drive. No doubt they'd read every personal piece of e-mail he'd ever written. Whatever. Those were small prices to pay, comparatively. He'd learned to live with minor disappointments.

The big ones, he still had trouble with.

Sam swallowed hard, an acrid taste in the back of his mouth.
Again he tried to wipe out the image of Gaia's face from his mind—her expression of disgust as she'd turned away from him in the park.
But he couldn't. It had been playing on an endless loop. How the hell was he going to mend their relationship? Maybe he couldn't. Maybe it really was over. If Gaia had treated Sam the way he'd been treating her for the past week. . .

Well, he'd still forgive her. He loved her too much.
Which made it all the more painful. Because he could completely understand it if she never forgave
him.
He started grinding his teeth as he hooked up the various cables, the image of Gaia's face melting in his mind, shifting into an image of Josh Kendall. Every ounce of Sam's pain was thanks to that bastard and the people who paid him. If their plan was to destroy Sam's life, they had succeeded. Why couldn't they leave him alone?

Almost without thinking, Sam grabbed the phone and punched in Gaia's number. This was call number five in less than an hour. Again the machine picked up. He slammed the phone back down on the hook. She was probably blowing off steam somewhere or telling Ed what a big-time loser Sam was.

He looked at his watch. 7:00
P.M.

Enough of this shit.
He wasn't going to spend Friday night hooking up his computer or loitering in his suite just because Josh had ordered him to do so.
No, something inside him had just snapped.
If this were a chess game, he could surely find his way out of a check. He'd played plenty of games where opponents thought they'd had him mated. They'd be sure the game was over, and then Sam would find a move they hadn't seen. One brilliant move.

Of course, this wasn't a game.

That was the entire point. This was real life. Maybe in chess Sam needed a brilliant move, but in life all he
needed. . . was Gaia. So in a way there was a simple and uncomplicated solution:
Find her.

Right. Sam grabbed the white shirt draped across the ironing board in his room. As he buttoned it,
he felt an alien surge of a feeling long forgotten: hope.
Coupled with some kind of manic courage. Or maybe it was straight lunacy. Was there even a difference? Not really. Leaving could very well mean suicide. But at this point he was starting to wonder if death was preferable to this. . . this
nonlife
he was living.

Josh would be calling any minute—turning up with instructions, threats on Gaia's life, and whatever other surprises he had in store. But Sam would be long gone. If he didn't find Gaia at her place, then he'd find her at the restaurant.

And confess.

I
wonder how Ed will change now that he can walk
.

Maybe he'll be the same. Maybe he'll turn back into the skater formerly known as Shred, the badass who drove the girls of the Lower East Side crazy, who won the heart of Heather Gannis. Or maybe he'll be somebody completely different.


All I can say for certain is that he won't be the wiseass in the wheelchair that I've come to know and love. And that's disconcerting.


Scratch that. That's unbelievably selfish. This is the greatest breakthrough possible, and here I am wondering how it will affect
me
. Ed doesn't need more selfishness. Clearly he's getting it on all sides from Heather. No surprise there, although Ed wasn't expecting it. With one tug on his heart-strings, she retains the cash flow to which she thinks she is entitled. Actually that's not so
surprising, either. Ed is stupidly generous and a total sucker for sentiment. Heather takes advantage; Ed knows it, yet he just goes along with her, anyway. Because that's Ed. Always putting everyone else first.